


Determination

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life, Part 3 [3]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: maybe it was a little too soon ...





	Determination

“I’ve talked to the detectives. I’ve been cleared through Psych. I’ve gotten my gun and badge back. My bruises are down to green and yellow. I’m going back to work.”

“Scully.” Following her around his apartment, trying to button dress-shirt and tie tie at the same time, he nearly ran into the kitchen counter, “why? It hasn’t been that long. I can do this case by myself. I think one interview with a skeevy ice cream truck man and two follow-ups with sketchy women of the night won’t kill me. Probably put me off dairy for a little while but I can handle it just fine.”

Already put together, make-up armor in place, sensible shoes clicking, skirt hugging delicious hips, he really needed to not watch her get dressed in the morning, he watched her irritation with him solidify and he backed off, hands in the air, tie dangling with pathetic attempt at failed Windsor knot resembling more noose than work attire, “okay. Dropping subject, moving on. Frohike wants to take me through some new security footage they’ve ‘acquired’ tonight. He called while you were in the shower to ask if we wanted to come over after work. Langley’s cooking up a mean leg of something apparently and it’s simply to die for, as the kids say these days.”

At that moment, she was held together with the thinnest of threads, three or four at most and if she had to see her friends tonight, there was a very good chance she’d break completely, the sympathetic look she would surely get from Frohike and the extra helping of leg from Langley in lieu of kind words would quite possibly kill her, “I’d rather stay here, I think. I don’t know if I can take Huey, Duey and Louie right now.” Finally coming to a halt and hanging her head, she saw his striped socks approach, not stopping until they met the sharp leather toes of her shoes, “tell them I’ll come next time, though, okay?”

“I don’t have to go. We can go mattress shopping if you like.” He got the small smile he was hoping for and nudging her face upwards for a kiss, “and since I’ve mentioned mattresses, we should probably get on that whole idea of finding a place to put said fancy, new, king size, memory-foam, non-squeaky, headboard thing of beauty once we buy it.”

For the first time, she realized he was serious as a heart attack. Pulling back to look him square in the face, “you’re not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.” Grinning with a shrug, “if you’re gonna marry me, you might as well live with me, too. I mean, we already own a house on the beach, why not an apartment in the city?”

The walls closed in for one second, two seconds, three seconds then stuttering breath in, she tilted her head to a delectable angle, side of neck exposed to feasting eyes, “go see the Gunmen tonight. You need some tech geek time. I will find some real estate papers on the way home and see how much in debt I can get us and we will argue when you get back home.”

“Back home.” Ignoring late clocks and rush hour traffic building outside, he hugged her close, “life is good, Scully.”

&&&&&&&&&

The ten-minute respite before they left the apartment vanished with the chase of the skeevy ice cream man through the neighborhoods and backyards of Small Town, USA. They’d been innocently asking him questions inside his truck, getting along remarkably well, until he excused himself to serve a group of kids two popsicles and a snow cone. There, nestled amongst the Push-ups and the ice cream sandwiches, was a leg, knee included, toes painted pink.

It took fifteen minutes to catch him, Mulder leaving Scully behind, caught in a living flashback he didn’t have time to rescue her from. Pounding the pavement, leaping over tricycles, sandboxes and other suburban detritus, Mulder marveled at how fast this fucking ice cream man could run, putting in a burst of speed to catch him once the suspect miscalculated and took a slight stumble over, honest to God, a throwback game of marbles spread over the concrete.

Mulder thought his heart was going to explode with the adrenaline, exertion and sheer pissed-off-ness that Scully never should have been exposed to a guy like this so soon. It had been an interview with a motherfucking ice cream truck man who wanted to work at the post office for Christ’s sake. There shouldn’t have been a damned leg in the freezer. Sitting on the guy, head smushed into green lawn, he calmly called for backup while seething with hell fire on the inside and politely telling the gathering crowd that everything was fine, just a little misunderstanding about some unpaid parking tickets.

The only bright spot being he was certain every one of those gathered would be writing parking tickets checks before the hour was out.

Score one for the FBI.

&&&&&&&&

Finally making it back to the ice cream truck, Scully was still standing here, taking care of business on her end, talking with forensics on her phone, giving them story and location, nodding to Mulder as he stepped back into the vehicle, “you okay?”

“No but I have a job to do so I’m doing it.”

Honestly, he couldn’t really ask for more, “I got the guy about a mile from here. Locals picked him up and then dropped me off.” Seeing an unnerving dead look in her eye, “can you hang on a little while longer? We just need to get the team here and we can go.”

Suddenly moving past him, she stepped to the ground and sat down on the curb, head resting on her knees. Mulder followed, as he always did and always would, crouching in front, hand on the back of her ice-cold neck, “I can take you home now if you like. Lock up the truck. Get the local guys to stay.”

She rolled forward, head on his collar bone, “if I go home, he wins. Just give me a minute.”

All put back together ten minutes later, she was the consummate professional, doing her job with utmost care and concern. Mulder was proud of her for that, knowing damn well she was a churning mess just below the surface.

Skinner got wind of the situation and calling Scully, apologized, “I’m sorry. I never would have sent you on this if I’d know.”

And, in a voice plain with unease yet the slightest lace of humor, “sir, if you knew every man who kept body parts in the freezer, we’d all be unemployed. I’m okay.”

“Your mother’s going to kill me.”

“Possibly. Just offer her a cup of tea and ask to watch a James Mason movie with her. She’ll forgive you.”

“North by Northwest?”

“That’ll do it.”

Hanging up, she turned to Mulder, “can you take me home now?”

Hand in hers, he didn’t care who observed the intimate touch, “of course.”

&&&&&&&&&&

He begged off on the Gunmen, explaining legs and ice cream in typical Mulder fashion, then returned to the living room to find Scully leaning on the wall by the fish tank, staring out the window. Approaching her, hands in pockets, tread light, “hungry for any dinner?”

She took a moment before turning her head towards him, eyes sad but dry, “you can ask me, you know? If this is going to send me over the deep end? You’re allowed to question my sanity in times of insanity.”

Maneuvering around the corner of the desk, wedging them both nicely in limited space, he wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her close, “have we found that limit yet?”

“Not sure. Give me a few weeks and ask me again.”

Understanding, he held her until the sun

dropped low enough in the sky to blind him through the window. Asking into the top of her head, “feel like finding pajamas and discussing mattresses?”

Moving tighter against him, “I wonder if they sell mattresses with little pockets for M&M storage in the sides so I can give you one whenever I want to?”

“We can always have Maggie modify some sheets for us.”

“Works for me.” Once they were changed, settled, and in perfect talking demeanor with a bowl of pasta salad and two forks between them, “did you really call them ‘women of the night’ earlier?”

Poking her with his toe and hoping tonight would be a good night, “that took almost 13 hours to register. Going for a new record?”

“Don’t make me come over there.”


End file.
